


A Language Barrier

by Eowyn (eowynsmusings)



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Drama, Fix-It, Humour, M/M, Post BotFA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 22:23:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3305549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eowynsmusings/pseuds/Eowyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo remains in Erebor after the Battle of the Five Armies 'until the roads are passable again'. But over the weeks and months, things shift between the former burglar and the King under the Mountain, and the hobbit's dreams might not be as far-fetched as he thinks. The only problem is that he doesn't know what Thorin keeps whispering to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Language Barrier

**Author's Note:**

> Based once again on two beautiful wonderful paintings by [Radiorcrist](http://radiorcrist.tumblr.com/), which I am posting with this story with the artist's permission. It's all Radio's fault anyway what with the plot bunnies and all :P As always, the story comes with a feels warning, but also a request to not slap Thorin and Bilbo for being silly. Because they are, but they can't help it ;)  
>   
>  **Translation of Khuzdul:** Ubnan - greatest treasure. Amrâlê - my love.  
>   
>  **Disclaimer:** All Tolkien Legendarium characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. No profit is being made, no copyright infringement is intended.  
>   
>  **Beta:** Beta'ed by Undomiel_48 as per usual.

Bilbo couldn't say anymore how it had all started. How the leader of their Company had become, well, more. A lot more. He knew that it had been before that morning on the Carrock, because he clearly remembered going from heartbroken to over the moon in a split second the moment Thorin had embraced him. Rivendell maybe? Or before when Balin spoke of the dwarf king's heroics during the Battle of Azanulbizar. Not that it mattered. The only thing that did matter was how he had gotten here.  
  
Here was in the chambers of the King under the Mountain, in front of a merrily burning fire, warm and comfortable. His pipe lay on a table next to his armchair, on top of the book he had been reading. Sneakily. It had been a gift from Ori, and the young dwarf could be in all sorts of trouble if anyone ever found out about it. Or rather, he _would_ have been in trouble. Before. When he had first presented Bilbo with his gift. The hobbit smiled, recalling how his friend had stammered, "It's nothing much, but I think you will find it helpful." And it had been. Very helpful indeed. To the both of them.  
  
After the battle and the whole Arkenstone mess, Bilbo had been beyond surprised when Thorin had asked him to stay in Erebor for a bit longer. "Until the roads are once again clear. I wouldn't want you to trudge through the snow." Forgotten were the words at the gate, and the dwarf had apologised more than once for ... wishing harm on Bilbo. He once again offered his friendship to the hobbit, and Bilbo was more than happy to accept it, apologising in turn for taking the stone in the first place. Not that Thorin accepted his claim of being at least partly responsible for all of the mess. "I told you before that I was blind to anything but the lust for the treasure and the Arkenstone. You did what only a true friend would do. You tried to protect us when I did not." And that was the end of it.  
  
Over the following days and weeks, their friendship grew anew, until they were once again as close as they had been before that day on the wall. Except ... except Thorin ensured that they were never alone like that day the hobbit had shown the king the acorn. That precious moment when Bilbo had thought that maybe he wasn't a fool after all for hoping... But it didn't matter. Bilbo was happy. Happy and sad at the same time, even though he was loathe to admit it. He wanted to ask, more than once, what he had done wrong, but he knew he never could. For in all likelihood Thorin either couldn't remember that day at all, or that smile, that beautiful, radiant and oh so very special smile had meant nothing more than... Friends. They were friends.  
  
Until that day in late November when Fíli had finally woken from his coma and the dwarves of the Company were celebrating. They had all survived, even though, as far as Thorin was concerned, Kíli had still suffered the most grievous of injuries, and dealt another to his family. He had brought an elf into Erebor. As his _betrothed_. Every time he brought up Tauriel, Bilbo had to keep from laughing, for surely love, in whatever shape or form, was something wonderful. Though Thorin's point of view regarding his nephew's choice was like a killing blow to the hobbit's hopes and dreams. Oh, he had been such a fool.  
  
Evening had turned to night, and slowly the dwarves drifted off, and by the time Thorin noticed that they were alone it had been too late to call anyone back. Although, later, the hobbit was uncertain if Thorin would have done so in the first place. For what happened next was beyond anything Bilbo had imagined even in his wildest dreams. Thorin had been slightly drunk, that was for certain. But that still didn't explain why he suddenly looked at Bilbo as if he was seeing the hobbit for the first time, and why that smile, _that_ smile, spread across his face again. Even now the hobbit couldn't quite remember how he ended up pressed against the cool marble wall, his lips kiss-swollen and his coat crumpled up on the floor as the dwarf was seeking out Bilbo's skin. Nor could he remember how they had made it to the king's chambers and that beautifully soft and oh so very large bed.  
  
What he did remember though was waking to cold sheets thinking that Thorin had woken and realised he had made a grave mistake. The next few days had been awkward, but then, maybe a week later, they had once again ended up in the king's rooms again. Time and again it happened until the nights he didn't spend in Thorin's bed were a rarity, and he even moved some of his things into the king's chambers. At Thorin's request. "It makes no sense for you to run off to your room in the morning. Just bring your dressing gown with you." The dressing gown Thorin had gifted him for the Yule celebrations. "You might as well have some of your books here, just in case I am late returning from a meeting and you grow bored. Can't have you falling asleep in front of the fire."  
  
It was in the first weeks of January that the hobbit noticed it. Every time they made love, Thorin would whisper words in Khuzdul into his skin. They were clearly words of praise of some kind, but Bilbo, who wasn't allowed to go anywhere near the dwarvish books in the library, obviously couldn't understand them. And yet he did wonder. At the whole situation. Thorin had not spoken of their little arrangement beyond urging the hobbit to practically move into his chambers, and Bilbo wondered if the dwarven king still expected him to leave or... Or.  
  
It happened again, those quiet whispers. And every night after until Bilbo had memorised the words even though he still did not know what they meant. However, that soon changed. He was in the market, or what went for it, when he overheard Glóin calling his wife _ubnan_ , and given how she smiled at the red-haired dwarf it was obvious that it was an endearment of sorts. Then he happened upon Kíli whispering _amrâlê_ to Tauriel, who blushed and replied by calling the young dwarf _melethen_. Now, that word the hobbit knew. My love. Surely, surely Thorin hadn't called him that...

[ ](http://radiorcrist.tumblr.com/post/108485724331/apparently-if-i-get-frustrated-by-my-own-art-i)

But that night, as the king slowly undressed him, as those strong hands caressed him and held him tight, Bilbo wrapped his arms around the dwarf, pulling him closer. And when those words started falling from the dwarf's lips once more, the hobbit knew. He wasn't just a warm body, a lover Thorin turned to when his desires needed release. Gasping at the realisation, and tears in his eyes, Bilbo finally noticed just how ... loving the dwarf was with him. How gentle and careful as if the hobbit was the most precious thing in the whole world and Thorin was afraid to break him. No, this was about more than physical satisfaction and Bilbo wanted to slap himself for not seeing it earlier. Thorin was making love to him, and now, finally, the hobbit allowed himself to do the same. To let go of his fears and inhibitions and give himself to his dwarf completely. There was no use in holding back anymore anyway. He had lost his heart a long time ago after all.  
  
Picking up his pipe, a most beautiful specimen that Thorin had carved for him, he smiled at the fire. They had both been fools. All around them, the dwarves of the Company and from the Iron Hills had started placing bets on the ‘two great idiots', but still the two lovers themselves had not spoken of their feelings. Well, not really. Until Bilbo had woken up in the middle of the night...  
  
He had been dreaming of Thorin holding him in those strong arms, not only in the throes of passion but as they drifted off to sleep. Somehow that had never happened as yet, and Bilbo could not fathom why that was. They shared their bodies so... But, as always, he did not ask. However, when he woke that night it was to the feeling of a warm and slightly rough finger caressing his back. No, not caressing. It felt more as if Thorin was drawing shapes on his skin. Shapes that even his sleep-addled mind soon identified to be runes. Now, why would the King under the Mountain do such a thing? He had shaken his head at himself and gone back to sleep, thinking nothing more of it.

[ ](http://radiorcrist.tumblr.com/post/110037455156/remember-this-last-art-i-did-of-the-language)

Then it happened again. Almost every night he would wake to those gentle caresses until he could no longer deny that there was a deeper meaning to it all. Just like there had been to those tenderly whispered words. And so he started to memorise the way that finger moved. Yes, those were runes indeed, runes that Bilbo had no knowledge of at all. And furthermore, he had no idea how to figure them out without seeking someone else's help.  
  
Fíli and Kíli were out of the question, as was Balin. He'd seen the old dwarf wink at him several times as he was making his way back to Thorin's chambers, and Dwalin had been even worse. Just thinking of the lewd remarks and _gestures_ the warrior had made brought a flush of embarrassment to the hobbit's face. Bofur was an option of course, though the tinker was rather busy chasing after a dwarven lass from the Iron Hills. That really only left one option. Ori. But as he showed him the runes that he had written down that very morning, the young dwarf began to stammer. "That's ... that's Khuzdul, Bilbo. I'm not sure if I should... Even if you and the king... They would have me by the neck if they ever found out." He was talking of the librarians and scholars that had come with the last caravan from the Iron Hills. But then Ori covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head. "Oh Bilbo. I didn't mean to remind you... He wouldn't do that again, I am certain of it. I think that the gold has no more power over him at all, now that he's found... Nothing. Nothing at all. I'm sorry, Bilbo, but I have to go back to work." And Ori had almost run from the desk they'd been sitting on leaving the hobbit utterly confused.  
  
And his confusion grew when a week later, one of the guards handed him a small parcel. "For you, Master Hobbit," he had said with a bow, which made Bilbo rather uncomfortable as always. He was no hero and yet all of Dáin's men seemed to see him that way. He would have to have words with Thorin at some point so he could speak with his cousin about the whole thing. It simply wouldn't do. But then he remembered that he and Thorin didn't talk much at all if it wasn't about the construction work in both the Mountain and Dale, or some diplomatic problems regarding Mirkwood and _that faithless woodland sprite_. The hobbit couldn't believe Thorin actually called King Thranduil that!  
  
Making a rather magnificent smoke ring, the hobbit now chuckled and looked at his book with fondness. Had Ori known that it would change his life forever? Or had he simply wanted the hobbit off his back?  
  
That evening, Bilbo had been sitting in front of the very same fireplace he was now, and opened his small parcel to find a book on Khuzdul runes and their meaning. With a translation into Westron. Close to a death warrant if anyone ever found out about it. "Oh Ori..." he had whispered before getting to work. And what he had found, rather quickly at that, made his heart swell and tears flood his eyes. The runes ... they were words of love and devotion, the same words Thorin whispered with so much passion when he held the hobbit close. "Thorin ... oh what fools we are..." he muttered, vowing to finally put an end to the silence between them. And then he would have words with the dwarf, many words. Though he still did not quite know how to proceed.  
  
It was a few days after, a mere week before Bilbo was supposed to return home, that he ordered a light dinner to the king's chambers, and bribed Balin into sending Thorin to his rooms earlier than normal. Nerves threatened to get the better of him the entire day and when his dwarven lover finally entered the grand chambers, the hobbit was pacing in front of the fire, their dinner on a table nearby. "Balin told me to go to bed as if I was still a small boy he could order around," the king complained before his eyes fell on the plates and dishes. "Or maybe there was another motive that made him act that way? Master Baggins?"  
  
And that was what did the trick. Time and again Bilbo had asked the dwarf to call him by his name, but he never did. Well, unless they were lying on that big bed and Thorin was touching him with so much affection and... He shook his head. "I was hoping to spend an evening with you that is all. For you will remember that I am due to depart in only a few short days." The dwarf tensed and was about to speak when Bilbo continued. "There is something I have learned recently, and I would like to show it to you if you were to allow it." Except, he didn't wait to be granted permission.  
  
Walking up to the dwarf, he reached for one of those large hands and began to repeat each and every of the runes on Thorin's palm. All those confessions of love and adoration the dwarf had drawn on his back for so many nights. "Bilbo," the king whispered then, his voice cracking and choked-up. And the hobbit smiled. At last! "You cannot mean it. Not after what I did to you. I couldn't hope to win your affection after..."  
  
At that, Bilbo dropped the dwarf's hand, threw back his head and laughed. And he had laughed until tears were running down his cheeks. Thorin had looked at him in confusion and mounting anger, but the hobbit had quickly cupped his face and brought their foreheads together. "And I thought I was no more than a friend to you, and that we would never be more, even when you had taken me to your bed. For how could you ever love and trust someone who betrayed you as I did?" He had gasped then as he realised something else. "Is that the reason why you never wanted to be alone with me? Because you were..."  
  
"I feared you would try to run from me. That you wouldn't be able to bear my presence without someone else around. And I was afraid that I would not be able to resist... And I wasn't, was I?" The king smirked, although somewhat wistfully. "I was deeply ashamed of my actions the night Fíli awoke, but when you did not shy away, I thought that I could at least have that. That I would be allowed this small piece of happiness. And I couldn't keep from telling you what you were, what you _are_ to me, Bilbo. Though I thought I was being less transparent about it."  
  
"Well, I'm glad that you weren't. For I don't think I would have dared to say anything before leaving your side." They had both laughed then, and their food had been cold by the time they had even thought of eating.  
  
Bilbo had travelled to the Shire a week later. But not alone. Thorin had decided to accompany ... his sister on her way to Erebor, and so it had been only logical for him to journey with the hobbit. The hobbit who now had a dwarven braid in his hair. And upon their return, Thorin had nearly suffered another heart attack at the hands of his nephews. Well, Fíli this time.  
  
The king's heir had taken a bride it seemed, and while that had been all well and good, the fact that she was human ... well ... it had brought a few more silver strands to Thorin's hair. "First Kíli and the elf, and now Fíli and Bard's daughter? What is wrong with my family?!"  
  
Dís, who had been rather thrilled by the news of her sons and her _stupid_ brother finding love, had simply looked at him and said, "I don't know, brother, why don't you tell me? You're running off with a hobbit after all. Truly, I seem to be the only real dwarf left in our family, maybe I should be queen?" And that had been the end of it.  
  
All that had been five years ago, and Bilbo was now the Consort under the Mountain and co-ruler of the Kingdom of Erebor. "Bloody titles," he grumbled as he smiled at another smoke ring, leaning back into his chair. Thorin would be along soon, or so he hoped, and maybe the hobbit would take his hands again today, and draw runes of love onto the king's palms.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr... [Eowyn's Musings](http://eowynsmusings.tumblr.com/). I know, the name's a big surprise :P


End file.
